Giving Up the Fight
by Protector of the Gray Fortress
Summary: The brutal attacks seemed unending, lowering his defenses each time. Even the Doctor had his limits, and he was weakening...if only he could hold out until they arrived. Nine Doctor, Rose, Jack.


Disclaimer: Oh like you'd really believe me if I said I did own it.

Note: Plot bunny, and semi-fluff. There are a lot of stories where the Doctor rescues and comforts his companions. I had to see what it would be like the other way around.

* * *

He wasn't used to this…the cold, ok…the hunger, certainly…the pain, he'd dealt with all kinds of pain before…but in all his 900 years of exploring time and space he'd never been helpless. He'd been a prisoner loads of times…but not to this point…not to where he'd had to retreat into his own mind. 

He didn't remember when it had started…when they had caught him…he just remembered the first furious assault…brutal and totally unexpected…attacking his innermost thoughts…digging into his memories. Totally unprepared he could only wait until they exhausted themselves searching for whatever it was they were looking for.

They didn't find it and he'd collapsed onto the steel floor of the small room, gasping for breath, clutching his broken ribs.

They left him there in that little room…with the cold and the hunger and the pain from his battered body…he searched his cell thoroughly, from corner to corner….but it was a flawless prison, with no windows and one compact door. They'd taken his sonic screwdriver as well as his leather jacket…leaving him with no tools…so again he could only wait…relying on his advanced Timelord physiology to withstand the discomfort.

There was no night and day in the little cell and he had no way of knowing how much time had passes before they came again…but he was ready this time…he fought as they entered his mind, and with an effort that left him weak an shaking he threw them out before they'd had a chance to search.

A pattern developed…endless hours of emptiness and cold…broken only by the attacks, which he stopped again and again and again.

But even a Timelord has his limits…and after what must have been weeks of the cold and hunger he was weakening. He knew he would not be able to withstand the attacks much longer. So he resorted to his last line of defense…one he had never used before…and shut himself away in his mind, and he felt nothing at all.

* * *

_Doctor_

It was low and subtle…like a voice on the wind…he felt it brush the edge of his consciousness, briefly…than drift away again.

_**Doctor**_

Again it came, but more persistent this time. He sighed wearily…he was so tired…he wanted nothing but the peace and stillness…he delved deeper.

The thing…whatever it was, pressed again, tugging him back…a wave of irritation swept through him. Why didn't they leave him alone?

It was too late though, awareness was returning. He could feel the deep ache of his exhaustion…the terrible emptiness of his stomach…the sharp pain of every bruise and…

He stiffened mentally…they were attacking him again! Luring him out…he had to fight it!

He tried to turn away back into the darkness…to cut himself off…but…he was so very tired.

_**Doctor**_

He couldn't fight anymore…they had won…he slumped miserably in defeat and waited. Perhaps it would not be so bad…the end. Despite his various aches and pains he felt more comfortable now…he wasn't cold anymore. In fact he was very warm…as though he were beside a heating vent.

He could feel them entering his mind, penetrating it…and it was not so terrible now…perhaps because he was no longer fighting.

But no…another part of him, a part far more wary and alert awoke. He could not reconcile the numerous invasions of earlier to the gentle touch that now caressed his mind.

It was familiar…very familiar… and when he had closed off his mind to such an extent only one thing could have awakened him.

_**My Doctor**_

The TARDIS! Where was she? If he could get to her than he might be able to escape…to find the others.

…the others.

He'd forgotten about them…what had happened to them?

His anxiety drove him to a higher awareness and his perception sharpened dramatically.

He was lying down...on something soft…the source of warmth lay next to him.

The TARDIS was a constant hum in the back of his mind…a glow of comfort…but he heard other voices too now…dimly.

There were two of them, and they also were oddly familiar…but try as he might he could not place them.

"gone…passing a …can't….try it…he was here…"

They wavered in and out of focus like a badly tuned radio. He struggled to comprehend…the TARDIS lent him strength.

"so what's he done….can't get a word through to him."

"I've heard that they're telepathic but I had no idea he could do this…"

"I don't blame him," the second voice, very gentle and melodic sounded very close to him. A hand brushed his brow.

Rose.

The name broke like water through a dam, and with it came a wave of sensations.

Beneath his fingers and under his head he could feel cloth that smelt wonderfully clean and fresh. There was a weight on him that stretched up to his shoulders…a duvet…the covers of a familiar bed. There was a sharp pang his chest and he felt the light pressure of a bandage round his ribs…the discomfort caused by each and every one of the breaths that labored in and out of his lungs, sounding in his ears. Every muscle felt bruised and battered. He cringed and let out a soft moan.

The voices stopped…there were footsteps, then tentatively…"Doctor?"

He said nothing…waiting for her to speak…he had to hear her to know he was not dreaming…to convince himself to make the last effort and become fully awake.

"Doctor, are you awake?"

He sighed in relief and opened his mouth to reply.

A rasping croak emerged from his exceedingly dry throat, they hadn't given him any water either.

She must have seen the frustration of his face because she continued to talk…her voice alive with relief and excitement.

"It's all right Doctor, you're safe with me and Jack in the TARDIS. We're in the vortex."

The relief was complete…they were safe…the TARDIS was here…………….….THE VORTEX!?!!

JACK HAD DRIVEN HIS SHIP?!!

He struggled to sit up only to discover that his muscles were as unstable as jelly and his body as unresponsive as wood, and his ribs still hurt. He fell back shaking…he was as weak as a day old kitten.

"Take it easy Doctor," Rose said, her hands easing him back onto the bed. "Give yourself a bit of time…"

He groaned, the effort was draining his very limited reserves of strength…the TARDIS thrummed concernedly.

He needed sleep, proper sleep, and food, and something to clear his throat…He Needed To Find Out What Harkness Had Done To His Ship!

He opened his eyes, blinking them rapidly to clear them. He was greeted by the sight of his own room. His jacket was draped over a chair nearby, and a thoughtful someone (Rose no doubt) had set his screwdriver on the bedside table within easy reach. The Doctor focused on the foot of his bed and deprived of speech and movement he did the only thing he could. He fixed his icy blue eyes on the blurry figure of Jack and glared.

But this was Jack, and he was not that easily intimidated.

"It's about time Doctor," he said, smiling, his voice very brash and American.

The TARDIS hummed in agreement.

_**I'm here. **_she conveyed. _**All is well my Doctor.**_

The Doctor groaned again and turned his head to look at Rose who was reclined next to him outside of the covers. She was smiling as well, and though she looked tired and worn with worry, her expression was one of perfect contentment. Her smile widened, as he looked at her and she continued to stroke his brow. "Hello." She said softly.

He swallowed, and rasped "'Lo yourself."

"How're you feelin'?"

Terrible, horrible, thirsty, hungry, wretched, ragged and a dozen other things far less pleasant.

He smiled. "Fantastic,"


End file.
